


Hearts will dream again

by lee_andrews



Series: Naruto Rare Ships Challenge [4]
Category: Naruto
Genre: Afterlife, Angst, Character Death, Drowning, F/M, Mentions of Injuries, Mentions of Suicide, Panic Attack, Romance, Sexual Content, Thoughts about death, philosophical discussions of shinobi life and duty, suicidal behaviour
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-21
Updated: 2020-11-21
Packaged: 2021-03-10 03:33:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,239
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27656888
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lee_andrews/pseuds/lee_andrews
Summary: Kakashi’s skin felt rough under her fingers. The scars, there were so many scars. Konan closed her eyes to amplify the sensation. She would always remember the surfaces, a person who could distinguish between a hundred types of paper just by touching them. She wanted to remember this.___________________________I suppose this is pretty dark. Please, proceed with caution.Inspired by "Under the Water" by Aurora.
Relationships: Hatake Kakashi/Konan
Series: Naruto Rare Ships Challenge [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1856938
Comments: 5
Kudos: 9





	Hearts will dream again

**Author's Note:**

> Spoilers for Konan's story and Kakashi until the Fourth Shinobi World War.

It’s near impossible to drown if you know how to swim. 

Where did they fall? she wonders. Those people he visits every day. Those people whose names are on that stone. Those people he doesn’t cry for. She knows that for sure, she’s watched him for a long time now. 

Does he expect an answer? A sign, perhaps? she wonders. She wants to tell him that the dead do not speak, that there are no mystical signs. No watching from above. No comfort beyond the illusory. She knows that for sure, she’s stared into Yahiko’s eerily alive-yet-utterly-dead face for a long time now. 

But she is not supposed to show herself. She is here as a spy. A spy who’s long since only had eyes for one person in this damned village. 

*** 

A shinobi must know death. It’s not enough to have just witnessed it. And it’s not enough to have just caused it. No, you must _know_ it, must know when and how it comes, what feelings and sensations it brings with it, what it can force you to do to avoid it. 

The moon shines brightly as Kakashi jumps into the water. Some people would call it madness. 

Kakashi calls it training. 

He pushes his body to the limit. It’s hard. He is a good swimmer, he has excellent instincts for danger and, most importantly, he is a survivor. He cannot, will not drown. 

But it’s not the first time he is trying to do it. Just the first time he plans on going as far as possible. A shinobi must have perfect control of their body. And Kakashi is not being called a genius for nothing. 

It does not have to be this specific kind of death, of course. But drowning is a _process_. It’s also safe, relatively speaking. Kakashi trusts his body to do the right thing when it’s necessary, and chakra can help protect the lungs before it’s too late. 

Kakashi is as calm as ever, after all the missions, all the horrors, all the sins he’s committed and witnessed, his nerves are steel. Drowning is a process that he is perfectly in control of. The water around him feels like a loving embrace and it’s been ages since anyone’s touched him like this. The last one would be his father. 

Sakumo. 

_No, not now._ Now is not the time for this. 

But it’s too late and Kakashi is just a little boy, staring at his father’s bloody corpse, his heart beating too loudly and too fast, the realisation that Sakumo’s death is final hitting him like a rock on the head. One day, his death will be final too. So why is he toying with it now? Why did he jump into the river? Why? 

The dread is washing over Kakashi like a wave. Is he as weak as his father? Does he, too, feel the pull of death, of its simplicity and clarity. Is that the real reason why he is doing it? 

Kakashi breathes in water and his throat seals shut. He knows what to do now. In theory. 

The reality, however, is filled with inexplicable fear, panic and shame. 

… 

… … 

… … … 

...strong hands pull on him and, finally, his body does the right thing: it lets them pull him out to the surface. Kakashi feels the land beneath him as he vomits the water from his throat, and with his first breath, he sees an angel. 

Kakashi blinks and realises that his Sharingan eye is open and he is crying. Did he lose his forehead protector in the water? He also realises that the creature before him is just a person. Where he has just seen silvery wings in the moonlight, there are none now. It must have been a hallucination. Or was it? 

“Who are you?” Kakashi’s voice is raspy. Belatedly, he pulls his mask back and rubs his eyes with his sleeve, a childish, pathetic gesture. His sleeve is unpleasantly wet, but at least, the tears stop falling. 

His question is ignored. Instead, his saviour hands him his forehead protector. 

“I would have mourned a loss like that.” 

A shinobi then. As Kakashi ties the cold and wet hitai-ate back in place, he realises he already knew that. No person without extensive physical training could have pulled him out so easily. Especially not a young woman seemingly as petite as the one standing before him. 

“Who are you?” he repeats sternly. 

“You were dying,” she ignores him yet again. Her face is solemn, her amber eyes alert, but Kakashi cannot sense any hostile intent. 

“No,” he says stubbornly. “I wasn’t. This is not how a shinobi should die. So I wasn’t going to.” 

_Wasn’t I though?_

The woman watches him carefully and Kakashi tries to erase all doubt from his mind, let nothing show in his visible eye and expression. Finally, she seems to have made up her mind about him and says, “We are pretty far away from Konoha. It would be best if you didn’t stumble around in the night after what just happened.” 

Kakashi wants to dismiss it, he wants to say that he is fine, but he really isn’t. His mind is still in turmoil, his body is cold and wet and feels shaken. He registers that he is shivering in the chill of the nightly air. 

“Strip,” the woman commands in a calm voice, as she takes a stack of paper out of her bag, throws it on the ground and sets it on fire. 

Kakashi starts pulling his shirt off as he moves closer to the flames. He really needs this warmth and he is not afraid. He would be a pretty pathetic shinobi, after all, if shedding his clothes made him powerless in a fight. 

The paper burns too much like proper wood and Kakashi suspects that it is special somehow. A modification of the paper bomb, perhaps? This kunoichi is really quite interesting, though her forehead protector is nowhere to be seen, and Kakashi feels annoyed at that. She definitely knows far more about him than he does about her. 

“My name is Konan,” the woman says suddenly and Kakashi automatically checks for any kind of chakra flare or genjutsu, but there is nothing. She doesn’t seem to be able to read him. Maybe she just has a good sense of timing. 

“Of?” 

“Of the Hidden Rain,” she hesitates just a little bit, but something tells Kakashi she is not lying. “And you are Hatake Kakashi, the son of the White Fang.” 

“Don’t say that,” comes out of Kakashi’s mouth before he can stop himself. The thoughts of his father are still too present in his mind, and this mention hits him like a crack of a whip. 

Konan looks at him, startled, “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to---” 

“It’s nothing,” Kakashi cuts her off before this situation gets even more ridiculous. He slowly takes the rest of his clothes off, just leaving the mask, the hitai-ate and his underwear on, his body is still shivering and he knows it’s not just from the cold now, for there is a familiar mixture of pain, anger and shame inside him. In Konoha, ‘son of the White Fang’ has been an insult for years. Kakashi has heard it being said behind his back, thrown together with all the other insults: Cold-Blooded Kakashi, Friend-Killer Kakashi. It didn’t matter what they called him, but hearing his father’s title pronounced with such mockery made his blood boil. Even though he called him worse things, howling in bed at night, unable to cry. 

And this woman probably thinks the White Fang a legend, even though he was an enemy. 

“Let me help you,” Konan says after a brief pause. “I can rub your skin dry.” 

“No,” Kakashi shakes his head, while his body shakes on its own accord. 

“If I wanted to kill you, there were better ways to do it tonight,” Konan looks at him earnestly, “and you know it. Why cannot we be nice to each other, like ordinary people?” 

“Because we are not ordinary people.” 

There is something in her gaze that makes Kakashi think that she actually agrees with him. Agrees that they can never be like ordinary people, because they have power and responsibilities, because their lives are not their own, because they belong to the village, no matter what they surround themselves with: family, friends, plans for the future – it's all futile anyway. And yet, there is longing in that gaze, too, for all those things, and Kakashi knows it as well. The longing that makes him accept another of Gai’s ridiculous challenges after weeks of ignoring him. The longing that makes him want to let this woman touch him. 

A silent understanding passes between them. 

“Just this once. And then we go our separate ways and will one day die like a shinobi should,” Konan whispers as she touches Kakashi’s bare shoulder. 

*** 

Konan is a shadow. Usually, she is fine with that. Even in Amegakure, her presence is felt, not seen. She has duties and Nagato’s mission is her life, for everything else is far too broken to salvage. Today, however, she has a wish. 

“Please, let me return to Konoha.” 

Nagato’s eyes express nothing. 

“You do not have to go. Pain will accomplish what we came for.” 

“I do not have to go,” Konan agrees. “But I have a promise to fulfil.” 

_Kakashi’s skin felt rough under her fingers. The scars, there were so many scars. Konan closed her eyes to amplify the sensation. She would always remember the surfaces, a person who could distinguish between a hundred types of paper just by touching them. She wanted to remember_ this. 

_Kakashi himself, on the other hand, felt soft, as if an electrical current that had kept him taut, was cut off. His whole being resigned to relax, to let go, to trust for once in what probably felt to him like ages. Seated comfortably, he leaned back onto Konan who was standing behind him. His breathing was deep and heavy as her fingers found the fabric of his mask, still cold and wet, it must have been very unpleasant against his face. It was in such stark contrast to his warm skin that Konan had to open her eyes, for the magic of the moment was gone in an instant. Kakashi must have sensed her hesitation, because he took her hand in his, pulling his mask down with another. He pressed her fingers to his lips lightly, an offering, an opportunity to take it further. Konan accepted it, brushing her fingertips across the warm, slightly chapped surface. Konan liked the way the texture felt, uneven, weathered,_ alive. _With Nagato, and even in the midst of Amegakure, she was an origami flower, beautiful, purposeful, but still. She missed being alive._

_She pulled away slightly, new to the feeling after such a long time, but Kakashi chased after her touch. He held the tip of her index finger gently between his teeth and swirled his tongue around it in a way that made Konan sigh softly. For two enemy shinobi, this was madness, but somewhere two ordinary people might have been doing this right now in the safety of their ordinary home. Incredible._

“I have to give a worthy death to Hatake Kakashi.” 

Only Konan can read the slight surprise on Nagato’s face. But he is not going to ask. The exact state of Konan’s affairs stopped interesting him a long time ago. They haven’t been friends for a while now, just an idea of friendship that they both were trying to defend. 

“It shall be done regardless,” Nagato responds. “He is going to want to protect his student, and so he would die by God’s hand.” 

Of course. 

Konan lowers herself onto the floor, settling down in a cross-legged meditation pose. As always when her soul is troubled, she pulls a paper sheet out of her cloak and starts folding a crane on her knee. She has made thousands of them throughout her life, for Jiraiya-sensei to stay, for Yahiko to come back, for Nagato to not be distant, for the village to prosper and it was never ever enough. She remembers the way Kakashi’s heart was beating underneath her lips. She alone has the right to stop that heart for good. What Pain would offer him, is the death worthy of a shinobi, but she could give him more than that. Yet her life is not her own and there is no reason for her to feel so angry. She is a shadow and she is content with that. Isn’t she? 

It occurs to her that those two ordinary people loving each other in the safety of their ordinary home would probably die today, too, crushed by the might of Shinra Tensei. No one’s life is truly their own. No amount of origami cranes can change that. 

*** 

Kakashi heard it right. Naruto said the woman was called Konan and came from Amegakure. She had been gone before Kakashi could see her and it was definitely for the best. They were two enemy shinobi until some moments ago and now, thanks to Naruto, they are allies. Confusing, and just as uneasy. 

_Kakashi could feel Konan’s shallow breaths as he kissed the skin around her navel. It didn’t feel like silk or, really, anything Jiraiya-sama had written in his books. It felt familiar, not much different from Kakashi’s own, just slightly more tender and less strewn with scars. The skin of a shinobi. “No,” Kakashi chastised himself, “ordinary people tonight.”_

_Kakashi pressed his ear to Konan's stomach and it rumbled slightly: they both hadn’t eaten for a while now. He found it endearing, however, like a little secret. His hands wandered across her body while she stroked his hair. There was no need to hurry, for there was no time in that small world shrunken down to two people and the tiny space between their bodies. Kakashi wasn’t drowning anymore, he was floating, full of life. It was strange, it didn’t feel right, but he wouldn’t give this feeling away for anything in the world. Nevertheless, light-headed, he kissed his way down to where little hairs tickled his chin and looked up, “May I?”_

_Konan smiled mischievously in a way Kakashi was sure very few people if any at all had seen before, “Should I show you?”_

_Kakashi nodded, mesmerised by the slightly ironic tenderness in Konan’s amber eyes, and breathed out, “Yes.”_

_She sat up, leaning back onto him, her back to his chest, and took his hand in hers. Kakashi dug his nose into her hair to hide from his embarrassed excitement. Suddenly, he felt insecure at the physical reality of it, his erection pressing into Konan’s back, he was ridiculous and inexperienced and giddy at the same time._

_But Konan’s hair smelled like books in the library, and to Kakashi, it felt so calming and familiar._

Kakashi is in the cave where Naruto found the real Pain and he doesn’t even know why. Perhaps it is the only place he can be alone right now. Almost everyone was robbed of their homes today, and people are gathering outside, trying to organise food, water and a place to sleep for everyone. Some are still in shock over their own deaths. Kakashi wonders whether they had experiences similar to his own, but he sure wouldn’t ask anyone. For all he’s been trying to understand death, how it comes, how it makes you feel, he still was not prepared for how it _actually_ felt. 

He saw his father. 

Sakumo smiled. 

It was so hard to unite with the image of him lying on the floor in the pool of blood, a gaping wound in his abdomen and a tantō stuck in his throat, his face a grimace of pain. As Kakashi was growing up, he couldn’t understand, why did Sakumo have to die like this, so brutally and horribly? Why did he do this to Kakashi who he knew would find him? Only years later, Kakashi learned why. Sakumo had committed seppuku, the ritualistic suicide that the samurai of the Land of Iron practiced to restore their honour. His father had not seen being a ninja as deceitful, abhorrent or lowly, despite everything, he had seen himself a warrior, protecting the village and the lives of the people in it. He told Kakashi as much as he sat there, smiling, at the dreamy afterlife fire. He didn’t look dead at all, he looked... free. So there is some hope beyond death, it seems. But there might also be hope for the living too. Naruto is not like anyone else, he wants the shinobi to be _those warriors_ , respected and proud. He wants them to love, to laugh, to have friends, cherished comrades, honour and a reason to exist other than being a tool for the village. He wants them to dream. It’s not freedom, not quite, but it’s not servitude either. It’s _service_. 

Kakashi absent-mindedly wanders through the cave, until he stumbles on a small flock of origami cranes that he carefully collects and puts in his belt pouch, while his face betrays no emotion. He knows who made them. There are way too few to make any wish come true, but it’s not their wish anyway. It’s Naruto’s. 

Somewhere, sometime, the shinobi won’t need to pretend they are ordinary people to share something with each other like he and Konan did that night. But Kakashi won’t live that life. He is a relic of the old world and he will continue to fight and one day die like a shinobi should. 

*** 

_She used her paper wings to keep her balance in the air as she pulled him out of the water._

_She felt him hot inside her, gasping for air like a man who just swam up to the surface._

_He would not drown, she knew now. Neither in the waters, nor in the memories, nor in regret. He is not that kind of man._

Konan is a shadow. Nay, _the_ Shadow now. The Rain Shadow. It’s not an official title by any means, but she likes it. She did what she could and more. She didn’t give up. The Rinnegan wasn’t hers to preside over, but the honour, the pride, the kindness, the truth – those were the things she’s protected. One day, hearts will dream again. Ordinary people in their ordinary homes will love. And the shinobi will love too. In Ame, in Konoha, everywhere. She doesn’t need to fold origami cranes for this to happen, it will be a natural turn of events once the war ends. 

Her body doesn’t sink, it just floats on the water as the rays of the sun Amegakure hasn’t seen in ages caress her face. Her mind slowly drifts away. She wonders whether she'll see Yahiko and realises that she is not the Konan he used to know. She wonders whether Nagato will see the difference, whether the three of them can be _something_ again, a friendship, not an idea of it. And there is one more person she would like to be _something_ with, but that might take a while.

“This is how a shinobi should die. Don’t you think, Hatake Kakashi? I shall be waiting for you in a place we can face each other as what we really are.” 


End file.
